Death of a Brother
by CloudyRose06
Summary: A look back at the words and actions of Denethor Steward of Gondor and Boromir's death, as told from Faramir's POV.


**DEATH OF A BROTHER**

I am here. Alive. The only surviving member of my family. Standing in the middle of the woods of Ithilien in which I now rule over. I am alive. According to my father, I should have been dead. My father is gone now. So is my brother. My mother, too. I should've been, too. With many arrows piercing me, I would have suffered my brother's fate if it wasn't for Gandalf.

One time shortly before, I've asked my father if he would have preferred my brother to live. For my part, I couldn't believe my ears when he gave me his answer: _Yes, I wish that indeed, for Boromir was loyal to me and no wizard's pupil... He would have brought me a mighty gift._ And I almost did, too. It was all based on his belief that if Boromir was still alive, Minas Tirith would have a better chance of surviving the impending attack. My father was at least hesitant when he said those words but they still hurt even to this day. Those words are what caused me to make a suicidal attack against the orcs of Mordor in the first place. Even when the war was finally over, there are still times when I couldn't help but cry myself to sleep because of those words. Of all the hard work I have done to earn my father's respect, they only ended in vain. But I finally have the knowledge that my father loves me just as Gandalf said. Maybe the real reason my brother was the favorite was mainly because of Gandalf, who my father held great disdain for.

Now I may be more scholar-like than my brother, but Aragorn was also Gandalf's pupil and still as capable a warrior as any. He could even best my brother in the bouts of swordplay, being much more skilled. As I had envied my brother before, that envy has now shifted to King Elessar himself, although the reason behind it is different. He was from the North, raised by Elves when he was orphaned and then lived most of his life as a Ranger. Perhaps his time among the Elves was the reason why his swordplay was nearly flawless as opposed to my brother's more straightforward approach. Eowyn has also admired Aragorn even though she is no slouch in combat herself. Maybe she's still admiring him today. Boromir might've admired him as well, since he was part of the Fellowship of the Ring.

Yes, that very Company Frodo and Sam had described to me. There's two of them plus the other two of their kind, Merry and Pippin. A Dwarf there was also and an Elf, respectively Gimli and Legolas. And of course, Aragorn and my brother. Gandalf was believed to have been lost in a Dwarven mining colony of Moria but was somehow miraculously brought back from the dead with a whole new look. No longer Gandalf the Grey, but now Gandalf the White. In the Wizard's own words, _the Sauman as he should be_. The Fellowship of the Ring was formed for a single purpose: venture into Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring by casting it back into its fires.

Speaking of which, I've had this dream and it involved the fall of Men. Perhaps similar to the Fall of Numenor from the literature I've read from the library almost every day. It was quite a riddle nonetheless and even Boromir was as curious as I was. Yet my father sent Boromir to follow the vision instead of me, mainly because he was ruggedly heroic and I'm more of a bookworm. It wasn't fair on my part. I had the dream and he didn't. I should've been part of the Fellowship. I know it sounds selfish, but it's all from the basis of those hurtful words my father said to me. On the other hand, from the resistance I've shown against the Ring's powers even if I was weak to them at first, imagine how much further the Fellowship might've gone if I'd gone along and not my brother.

I never hated my father. Not once. Yet I should have. Hatred does not make a man, but the abuse I have suffered has almost pushed me over the edge. I've actually thrashed my room. Twice. Questioning my quality all the while. Quality of a different kind as Pippin would put it, yet the kind my father has refused to see. But to my greatest comfort, Aragorn did. He does not see me as a mere pale shadow of my brother, but as having much of him within him.

My brother. My captain. My king. My brother's last words before his death. The words I would forever cherish everytime I remember finding his dead body on a boat holding his sword, his horn broken in two.

Overtime, I came to be regarded as part of the Fellowship of thr Ring by the rest of the members. Even Frodo, who is on his redemption quest like I am on my own. Perhaps we all do. Even Eowyn, who had sought death in the battlefield and instead found love with me. It may be a long road to recovery, but at least now I won't have a fear of hiding my feelings anymore. Not from anyone. Nor even from the King.


End file.
